blue flamingos

Christmas Ficlets The Year That Was

Fandom: SG1/SGA

Category/Rated: Slash/PG

Year/Length: 2010/395 words

Pairing: John/Cam

Spoilers: Continuum (AU)

Disclaimer: No, I don't own them, for which I should think they're profoundly grateful.

Series: The Year That Was

Author's Notes: For scrollgirl, who asked for: John and Cam in the 1930s in The Year That Was verse

Feedback: Yes please. Even if it's bad. Especially if it's bad.

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"I can't believe I let you talk me into this," Cam said.

"You're the one who said we needed something to do now we've saved the world."

"I meant get a dog. Or a hobby."

"This is a hobby."

"That's not the word I'd use for it."

"This is a classic," John protested. "Where's your sense of history?"

"I'm using it all to keep certain that us being here isn't changing the future in some terrible way."

"We live in the middle of nowhere," John pointed out, not for the first time. "What possible impact could us breeding horses out here be having on the rest of the world?" He'd expected his life to be weird when he fell through a wormhole into the past with his maybe-boyfriend. What he hadn't expected was that living in their own pasts would become routine.

"Depends how good we get at it," Cam said, grinning in the way he did sometimes that made John flush, warmed by Cam's faith in John's ability to do what he was doing. It made up for all the times John had wished he'd died in his original timeline; Cam's faith in him, and the thought that, if John hadn't come with him, Cam would be here on his own.

Cam's eyes drifted back to the center of the field they were standing in. "That's going to take years to fix up, assuming we even can."

"We can, and it won't take years. Eighteen months, outside."

"Like you know anything about fixing 1930s planes."

"I ran a flying school, you think I never had a hobby while I was doing it?"

"You and your hobbies," Cam said, but he said it with affection, and his face, turned to look at the wrecked shell of an airplane they'd just become joint owners of, was bright with enthusiasm, more than John had seen since they'd fallen through a wormhole and out of their time.

John moved a little closer to him, just close enough for their linked hands to be hidden between their bodies. "We'll fix it up," he said. "Paint it, name it. Learn to fly it. Take it around the state, fly it at state fairs and carnivals, and take Marilyn up and teach her. Fly."

"Got it all planned out, haven't you?" Cam said, soft.

"Yeah," John said, and held onto him.


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